I never thought this was possible.
But So You Thigh You Can Dance is managing to reach heights that Nigel Lythgoe’s dentist can only dream of.
This week’s two shows were controversial because, to my disbelieving, bedazzled eyes, there was no controversy.
The weakest links were told goodbye and the strongest, most inspiring performers were given accolades that they actually deserved.
It made you believe in truth, justice and the immediate immolation of American Idol.
Gev and his little pixie vixen, Courtney, for example, entertained as if they were on the Titanic and had already heard that it didn’t handle icebergs too well.
Entertainment truly is about giving of yourself and concentrating your mind’s emotions on those things that uplift people with mundane existences.
You know, affix a permanent image of Kirstie Alley in your mind and then try and find a way to make her heart leap and her body, at the very least, jiggle with joy.
I defy anyone alive not to be moved to simultaneous admiration and giggles at the sight of these two leading the audience a merry dance.
Joshua and Katee, the Chris Tucker and Jackie Chan of the proceedings, took on an Indian routine that put Mike Myers and artists of even greater pretension to shame.
Their beguilingly honest and joyous performance made you want to shoot over to your Netflix queue and slide Monsoon Wedding, one of the finest movies ever made, to the very top.
Mark and Chelsie continued to defy gravity and mediocrity by confronting both in an Ultimate Dancing Brawl.
Kherington and Twitch perhaps didn’t have their finest six or seven minutes. But when asked to perform solo for their lives, they vaulted their souls onto the stage as if to say: “Still got it, you know.”
Which leaves the bottom three and a half.
Really, can anyone argue with the fact that Comfort was uncomfortable and Thayne was, at best, cornered into submission? Perhaps he didn’t have the benefit of the best partners, but the smiling really did overwhelm any character he was asked to play.
Imagine Marlon Brando smiling during the Godfather.
I fear Thayne Brando would have done.
What of Jessica?
Tia, Maria and Teethy have undermined her confidence by continuing to tell her she’s not as good as Will.
Yet they have failed to highlight Will’s Achilles Ballet Slipper.
He so wants to be so perfect that he sometimes forgets how to be real.
Real people like us still prefer to watch Mark or Pixie Vixen because they bring new character to the floor and sweep it past our skepticism.
Will is in danger of letting his perfect lines dominate his ability to move. In the emotional sense.
Jessica’s problem is not so much that she struggles occasionally. It is that the struggle is written in bold capitals on her face.
Personally, I am struggling with the fact that this exhaustingly honest show is becoming like a burglar who, instead of creeping into your house in the middle of the night, knocks politely on your door and asks if he can pilfer your plasma.
Next week, it will be the Top Ten. I suppose I will be forced to take sides, to favor one performer over another.
Perhaps this will be not so bad, as, despite Maria’s shrieks, Hell’s Teeth’s beak and Tia’s slightly dazed vocal delivery every week, So You Thigh You Can Dance seems to favor the right result over the cheap trick.
It can’t possibly last, can it?
The Pond thanks antmoose for his extraordinary portrait of honesty.